


Blue Nude

by mynameisnoneya



Series: The Crown of Love [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artists, Clothing Kink, Domestic Fluff, Drawing, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Sketches, Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Despite their age difference and the snide remarks from her family, Sansa Stark adores her boyfriend, Jaime Lannister, who has an artist's eye and a thing for her when she steals his favorite pale blue cardigan.





	Blue Nude

**Author's Note:**

> This story was created as part of the "Jaimsa Week" prompt on Tumblr for Day #1: Clothing.
> 
> FYI for any art lovers out there, the title for this series comes from Millais's work by the same name.
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

 

“Come back to bed, love,” Jaime whined at the svelte, leggy redhead as she quickly maneuvered herself out of his grasp right before he could yank her back into the warmth of his king-size bed.  His ruggedly handsome face contorted into a mixture of both puppy-dog pouting and utter seduction when she threw back the covers in a half-hearted attempt to slip out of bed.

“Ah, ah, ah, mister,” Sansa giggled at her lover.  She enjoyed the way he began to walk his fingers toward her along the sheets.  Playfully she swatted at him, smacking his knuckles while her naked frame remained poised on the edge of the bed.  “Don’t even think about it.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying,”  Sighing wistfully, Jaime’s mouth quirked upward, his jade-green eyes blatantly roaming the smooth curves of her pale body.

Sansa unconsciously drew her bottom lip inward, gnawing it slightly while Jaime ogled her with both the obvious desire and the gentle adoration that only he could manage to juggle simultaneously.  Never in her twenty-four years had Sansa felt this adored and cherished.  Granted, she had a painfully short track record when it came to matters of the flesh, but that was beside the point.

As he studied her intently, Jaime flopped onto his side, propping his head on his hand, his shaggy, chin-length mop of golden hair cascading into his face in an unintentionally delicious shroud of sinful seduction.  Finally, the older man finally spoke, breaking the sound of silence in his bedroom while gazing upon his youthful paramour.

“What have I ever done to deserve you?”  Jaime’s rich, velvety voice contained no trace of jest.

Although his reputation as a terrible tease and a serial flirt with the ladies on staff at the King’s Landing Museum of Art was the stuff of legend, Sansa knew better.  It was in moments like these that her heart skipped a beat or two.  The coiled knots of self-doubt about their age difference which perpetually lodged themselves inside her gut always seemed to unfurl the very instant that he looked at her like he was looking at her now.

God, how much more in love with this man could she possibly be?

Clearing her throat to regain her rapidly vanishing composure, Sansa opted to play it cool.  “Hmm. . .I can think of a few things you’ve done to convince me to hang around, Dr. Lannister.”

That little jab raised Jaime’s blond eyebrow in challenge, just as she had hoped that it might.  “Let’s stay in tonight,” he said, the unmasked innuendo hanging in the air like an engraved invitation to a banquet any woman would be a fool to not attend.  “I want to finish capturing your ethereal beauty to preserve it for all the ages to come.”  He punctuated his poetic request by bestowing upon her a slight, almost shy smile.

Swallowing hard as the memory of her most recent coupling with the gorgeous art professor washed over her, Sansa clenched her thighs tightly together.  Before they had wound up in his bed not so long ago, Jaime had been working on his painting of her while ensconced in the privacy of his home studio.  As always, she’d found herself excited beyond belief while posing nude for him, nothing more than a simple, soft white sheet draped over her lower half as she reclined on the antique chaise that Jaime had painstakingly positioned on the small staging area.  Submitting to the scrutiny of her lover’s artistic eyes, her heart thudded rapidly in her chest while he diligently made progress, the all-too familiar signs of her arousal percolating with each and every stroke of his expert hand across the canvas.

Damn, she _really_ shouldn’t be thinking about Jaime had made love to her right then and there on that infernally uncomfortable chaise after she had thrown off the sheet and demanded his attentions in a most highly unprofessional manner.  But then, more often than not these days, the young, aspiring museum curator’s attempts to behave professionally around the dashing older man failed miserably.

Well, actually, that would depend on how one defines “miserably,” now wouldn’t it?

“You do remember that we’re supposed to be at my parents’ house for dinner in less than an hour, right?”  Unable to look away, Sansa’s eyes darted across the planes and ridges of Jaime’s bare chest and stomach.  If she didn’t get out of his bed _rightnow_ , she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to text her mother and beg out of the whole ordeal.  She’d already cancelled for this very same reason – twice, no less - in the last two weeks alone.

“How could I ever forget?” Jaime huffed.  He rolled his eyes while trying to reign in his frustration at being reminded that he had to endure dinner with Sansa’s clan.  “I would never dream of missing an evening of fine wine, food, and hateful glares from your lovely mother.”  Laughing to himself, he added, “And how I yearn for your father’s icy stare and your snarky sister’s poorly concealed jabs at my age.”

“C’mon, Jaime.  It’s not _that_ bad.”  Sansa grinned as she hopped to her feet.  “You and I both know that Mother and Daddy will come around eventually.  It’s just going to take some time for them to get used to the fact that we’re together.”

He grumbled under his breath.  “If you say so.”

“I know so!” she laughed, “They will learn to love you just as much as I do.  You’ll see!”

When Sansa bent down to rummage for something to slip into before heading to the shower to remove the smell of sex from her body, Jaime’s previously irritated visage morphed into sheer delight.  As she rummaged haphazardly through the pile of their previously discarded clothing, her milky white bottom bobbing in the air as she pilfered the pile, she remained completely unaware that his paint-stained hand prints littered her backside.

Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle when she finally settled on something to cover her nakedness.  “Stealing my sweater again, hmm?”

As she slipped the pale blue cardigan over her toned arms, Sansa turned to face him without tying the sweater closed.  “I’m not stealing it.  I’m just borrowing it.”

Wetting his full lips, Jaime grinned lasciviously at her.  “You wear that thing more than I do.  He watched her closely, studying how the soft, knitted fabric of his well-worn cardigan draped against her naked body, the too-long sleeves still partially covering her well-manicured hands as she grabbed her hair tie off the nightstand beside his bed.  Unashamed in her partial nakedness, Sansa stood by the side of his bed, once again unware of her radiant beauty, while she attempted to wrangle her post-sex ginger bedhead into a ponytail.  When her arms lifted as she wrestled her formally coiffed mane, the cardigan widened and exposed her perky breasts and patch of copper curls.

“Do.  Not.  Move,” Jaime rasped.  Virtually leaping out of his spot on his bed, he yanked his sketch book and pencil from its spot on the nightstand.

“What on earth. . .”  Sansa had no idea what Jaime intended as he flopped back onto the bed, his limbs all tangled in the silky red sheets while he feverishly whipped his sketch book open to a fresh page.  Her icy eyes narrowed the very instant he began to hurriedly zig-zag his pencil across the paper.  Sansa was stunned.  Did he really mean to draw her right here, right now?  “Are you serious?” she finally laughed as she froze like a statue.  “You want me to pose like _this_?”

“Absolutely,” Jaime hummed.  He didn’t stop his work to make eye contact with her as he hurriedly outlined Sansa’s form on the blank white page before him.

Obediently, Sansa remained locked in place.  She studied Jaime as he sketched her, and as always, she was astounded by his enormous talent, not to mention the adorable mannerisms he displayed while working on something.  Unconsciously, he chewed his bottom lip, pausing now and then while blurring the graphite lines like a shadow around her partially nude body. Often, he tilted his head to the side as he alternated glancing at her and his sketch book, squinting because he wasn’t wearing his reading glasses.  Everything about Jaime’s physical attributes as well as his artistic gifts made her ache for more.

As Jaime’s frantic sketching ground to a halt, he smiled widely at his work.  “Finished,” he sighed while lifting his mischievous green eyes to meet hers.

“May I see it?” Sansa asked softly.

Without speaking, Jaime simply turned his sketch book so she could see the drawing in its entirety.

Lowering her arms to reach for his sketch book, her breath caught in her throat as he handed it over.  He’d captured her essence as if he had snapped a black and white photograph.  Her lithe form was so life-like that she imagined she was looking at her reflection in a mirror.

Why Jaime had chosen to become a professor and not chosen to pursue his craft full-time was something that Sansa still could not fathom.  Early in their relationship, he’d told her everything about his life as a Lannister.  He’d told her about the bad blood which existed within his screwed-up family and how he’d chosen to teach instead of becoming the “next big thing” in the art scene like his dear old dad had demanded.  Yet Sansa, who had met Jaime at an art show sponsored by her employer for some of his upper-level students not long after she’d started working at the museum, still wondered sometimes if he regretted his choice to not pursue his own work full-time.

“Oh, Jaime…” Sansa said, her voice cracking as she examined his sketch.  “It’s. . .it’s so beautiful.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are, darling.”  Jaime smiled at her as she sat down on the edge of his bed, still clutching his sketch book like she had just unearthed the Ark of the Covenant.  “It would take me a lifetime to find a way to represent you as I truly see you.”

Swallowing hard, Sansa turned to look him directly into the eyes.  Dinner would just have to wait.  She wanted him.  She _needed_ him.  She needed to make him understand that she was in this for the long haul, both their families be damned.

Without saying a word, Sansa leaned forward to lay the sketch book back on its spot on top of Jaime’s night stand.  Turning once again toward him, she cupped his face in her hands, running her thumbs along his jawline covered with his three-day old growth.

“I love you,” she whispered as she descended downward slowly, placing a soft, gentle kiss on his pliant lips.

“And I love you,” Jaime replied when she pulled back.  Leaning into her touch, he closed his eyes, reveling in her touch while she caressed his cheeks.

“Y’know. . .”  Sansa dramatically paused, the sassy tone causing Jaime’s eyes to open instantly.  “I rethought my position.”

“I love it when you talk about positions,” he smirked.

Rolling her eyes in feigned indignation, Sansa continued.  “My position on going to my _parents’_ house.”

“Ah, yes. . .that. . .”

“We _could_ arrive a bit late. . .that is, if you think you’re up to it, Dr. Lannister.”

Jaime waggled his eyebrows at her.  “Leave on that cardigan, and I’ll show you just how up for it I am.”

“You want me to wear your sweater?”  Sansa giggled, releasing him as she climbed onto the bed.

“Gods, yes. . .”  Biting his lip in anticipation of what she might do next, Jaime stared at her swaying breasts peeking out from the pale blue knitted fabric.

“I didn’t know you had a clothing kink.”

“Only for you, darling.”

Without warning, Sansa shoved Jaime backward onto the bed, fisting two handfuls of the red sheet covering his naked body.  She thoroughly enjoyed his gasp when she yanked his covering away, exposing his burgeoning erection to her hungry eyes.  He groaned when she descended downward, her eyes never breaking contact with his even when she took his stiff cock into her hand and gently pushed back the last vestiges of his foreskin.

“Maybe I should pose for you more often,” she wondered right before taking him into her warm, wet mouth.

 

_______________________________

 

When the lovers finally made it to the Starks’ residence a tad late for dinner, Sansa almost lost it right then and there at the dining room table, right in front of everyone and the chicken casserole, when her mother complemented Jaime on how lovely his light blue cardigan was.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work was inspired by both the painting of the same name by Matisse as well as a photo of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau that I saw online where he is wearing a pale blue cardigan. I hope you will agree that my love of art and my love of Nikolaj meshed together nicely in this tale!
> 
> [ **Nikolaj in the blue cardigan** ](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/c3/8b/4e/c38b4ec9b6487f27aa5d561484ed1798--nikolaj-coster-waldau-fashion-men.jpg)


End file.
